


Lead with pride, makes us strong

by ExoLand (yuni3010), yuni3010



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - MAMA (Music Video), Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe- KoKoBop, Falling In Love, Multi, Romance, Self-Acceptance, Superpowers, Teen!Twice members
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuni3010/pseuds/ExoLand, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuni3010/pseuds/yuni3010
Summary: Park Chanyeol just wanted revenge. He was set on hunting down the pirate who had taken everything away from him. He had never expected to meet Byun Baekhyun along the way, or ending as a captain pirate as well.





	1. Fire

**Author's Note:**

> So... this story was inspired by One Piece (which I haven’t finished reading, so please, spare me the spoilers). The title comes from Moana’s song, How far I’ll go. The main characters are Chanyeol and Baekhyun, but the rest of EXO has important roles as well (and some TWICE members would be appearing, too). Beware that there's going to be side!Kaisoo and mentions of Hunhan.  
> Give it a chance, please :3  
> Feedback is highly appreciated.

For a simple and uncomplicated man like Park Chanyeol, there was solely a handful of sacred things in life. The memories he shared with his mother were undoubtedly the most important of them all, beyond winning the great prize of a local competition of advanced archery, or the precious sensibility his first childish infatuation taught him. That was why, as he confirmed the date in the latest version of the provincial bulletin, which showed the anniversary of her death in delicately cursive letters, he could not prevent the upsurging melancholia that disturbed his otherwise tranquil morning.

“It’s been ten years already, hasn’t it?” He softly said to himself, caressing the bright Sun pendant resting over his strong chest.

It was molded from pure gold, rich in light like the gigant star, and retained a wonderful, captivating gem in its middle, round and vibrant as an amber. 

A short sigh and a brusque shake of the head, and he lowered the wrinkled bulletin, losing himself in  a train of woeful thoughts.

Most were about her.

“God damn it, time surely flies fast...”

The pair of dark black marbles fitted inside his sockets, like little, polished onyx stones, reflected a painful glint when they halted to study his leather-gloved hands. Considering it was the beginning of summer and the sunny weather was steadily hot and bothersome, it was clearly suspicious such cold-recompesating accessory included in his day to day routine. He clenched his fists after a moment of silent despair, swallowing back a shameful share of bitter tears. He could not focus on anything but the numbing hate that suffocated him as his hidden finger tips slightly burnt up.

Park Chanyeol was a mysterious foreigner, or so the people of the comely town he currently lived in deemed him as. They were ignorant about  wherefrom he was native, or whether he had relatives alive, or if he was a fugitive, which was technically accurate. Chanyeol intended to  keep the staunch secrecy, not interested in burdening the happy-go-lucky farmers with the darkest pieces of his complex lifetime and risking the heavenly safety he had managed to settle for himself. Obliviousness was preferable in that case.

Only two persons were aware of his unfortunate past and the truths buried with it. They knew he had grown up in Trinity Village, a rather isolated locality in the Northeast Coast Region. His hometown used to be a speck on the main mountain range of their insignificant country, one rarely acknowledged. For centuries, it was a town barely known for their exquisite farms of peaches and strawberries, for their mild climate, and for the exceptional cordiality of their limited inhabitants. However, ten years ago, it became the ill-fated cradle of numerous legends and hereafter stories. It happened after one of the most tragic and vicious assaults contemporary history had recorded in the past decades. One of the most feared likewise.

One day, without any previous notice or even a foreboding, Trinity Village was eradicated from the map. Motives behind it changed according the narrated version, but all storytellers attributed the event to the same perpetrator: Captain Choi, the proclaimed Pirate Emperor. No man knew much about him apart from his last name, the approximate number of his followers (around 1,500 adepts) and the notorious, great deeds people asserted he had done all around the world to end the main Crowns’ monopolies. Chanyeol, however, could recall a few facts about the man that had never been widely circulated, such as the nasty patch of black skin over his pectorals.

Trinity Village’s doom was, as commoners insisted, an irrefutable proof of Captain Choi’s unbeatable supremacy. Such incident had not been carelessly dismissed as another piracy stunt by the pertinent authorities, but it had been purpousely forgotten to preserve the monarchy wellbeing. Their King, who had offered half of the national budget for Captain Choi’s apprehension after the gory massacre, was obligated to retract from his words and remove the capture order. As a matter of fact, the Pirate Emperor himself tripled the amount of money bidden, promising it in exchange for their King’s head. It was a blatant provocation, of course.

His audacity encouraged the bloodthirst and agitation of rebel groups, which brought a period of critical instability upon the kingdom. Just like that, with the restless uproar of masses and the birth of new politics, rash and inclement for many innocents, the lawless extermination in Trinity Village was swiftly neglected and finally forgotten.

Regardless of the popular apathy, the survivor of the incident still reminisced about it. The nine-years-old snuflly brat that went by Park Chanyeol had converted into a fine young man, and his sole reason to live was to hunt the Pirate Emperor down. 

“Chanyeol!” A tiny old lady, hunched back and arms skeleton-like, peeped through the clear window of his cottage. Her eyes were big and penetrating, pretty owlish, and left Chanyeol feeling a tad distressed for her impeccable timing.

She knocked on the glass a couple of times, waiting for him to welcome her inside. Chanyeol was slow and lazy as he stood up, massaging his heavy shoulders, and walked over the door with the same unhurried disposition.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee. You look as lovely and lively as always”, he sweetly greeted her, opening the old door enough to receive the small breadbasket with his daily portion of fresh fruits, egg bread and warm milk. He smiled like a timid teenager, though he was far from being one. “How is Mr. Lee doing? Has his fever gotten better?”

“I wish it had, dear. You know how that old geezer is... He is so stubborn and insufferable! He’s set on refusing to take his medicines and won’t even try the broth I’ve prepared for him. He’s convinced he’ll get better by his own. Can you believe it?”

Chanyeol chuckled, nodding. “It does sound like something Mr. Lee would do.”

She stomped the ground, grumbling as the young man unpacked the fruits and swept a glance in search of a washed jar to store them. Chanyeol admired her from his peripheral vision, a strange fondness deeply nested in his heart as he did so, remembering once again why it was not conceivable to reveal his identity and the rusty chains he was forced to drag.

“Well, if that is what he desires, then I’ll let him have his way. I’m not responsible for his wellbeing any longer.”

“Mrs. Lee, may I suggest a crazy thought?” He waited until she had fully regarded him to speak up. He leaned against his counter with a lazy grin, bowed legs knocking the wooden piece. “Mrs. Lee should attempt to ignore him for a couple of hours at least... I’m positive it’ll do the trick to enchant him. Soon, you’ll have Mr. Lee longingly calling for assistance, craving company and demanding attention. I’m sure he’ll comply with whatever Mrs. Lee asks then. Mr. Lee is quite obstinate, that’s irrefutable, but he loves Mrs. Lee more than he cherishes his pride”, he replied with genuine amability, rendering the old lady standing at his doorway a flustered and bashful mess.

With a hearty laugh, he finally beckoned her closer. She tottered in, looking over her thin shoulders every five seconds, perhaps hoping to catch any sign of her husband needing her as Chanyeol had predicted.

Chanyeol hummed, mischief clear in his profound eyes as he noticed her uneasy behavior. “Mrs. Lee is as hopelessly in love with Mr. Lee. I found it marvelous... How long has it been? Sixty years? Eighty?”

“Ah, more than seventy...” She whispered, palming her rosy cheeks. “One loses count after the sixty...”

Her curious, fluttering gaze paused over the table and the papers on it. Out of the sudden, her nice expression darkened, a  disapproving frown anticlimatic in her usually warm mien.

“Boy, what is this?” She snatched the bulletin, missing how Chanyeol went noticeably tense. He almost broke the jar he had inside his grasp, a few strawberries rolling around the floor after they slipped from his fingers.

Her owlish eyes quickly scanned the contents of the note he had been reviewing and her friendly appearance dissapeared in a blink, being replaced by a grave, fulmining mood.

“Son, I beg you, quit this pointless search of revenge”, she outcried, lowering the bulletin before frustration overpowered her emotions and made her tear it into pieces.

It was not the first time she had discovered him reading that specific section of the news, where pirates’ pursuits and witches’ persecutions were uplouded and described in precise detail, but it was the first time she had allowed such negative reaction.

“Captain Choi is dead. He was publicly executed five years ago. How much it will take for you to  process and understand that? This is ridiculous.”

“That was part of the Government’s strategy to dishearten the rebels, Mrs. Lee”, Chanyeol argued back as calm as possible, giving her the sight of his broad back. His wish was to conceal the shaking hands and sweat-drenched forehead that were out of his control. The room became suffocating, making him  claustrophobic. “The beloved Pirate Emperor, seized thanks to one of his most trusted crewmates’ betrayal? That’s ridiculous. We wouldn’t have a single idea of what true loyalty is if it wasn’t for that bloody crew, Mrs. Lee. They were not just a mere throng of barbarians who obeyed a cursed despot just because they could get some lousy benefit out of it, nor because it was the most advantageous decision. Those men idolize Captain Choi, in such profound level it can be sickening. They steadfastly adopted his convictions as theirs, and wholeheartedly respect him like he is an absolute peerless leader. Captain Choi is their hero and—”

“Stop, boy, stop witht he nonsense! What could you know?” She yelled almost violently, gathering in a hasted all the pieces of the paper and throwing them in the fire Chanyeol had ignited minutes prior her arrival.

Both of them watched them being devoured by the flames with a weighty anxiety. The crisp noises of the eating blazes sending a striking shiver alongside his spine. The ardent orange and bright yellow whirling over his irises, pleasantly dizzing a mute Chanyeol.

Her face seemed paler, plagued by disgust and utter abhorrence. “That monster was annhilitated. His whole crew of cursed demons, too. Everything you say is nothing but a foolish conjecture... You’re obssessed, Chanyeol. You can’t live under the shadow of a ghost forever. Accept it... He is dead.”

The young man tried to keep his breathing steady, serene, regular. She had called them cursed demons. She would call him the same if she discovered his skeletons. Chanyeol snapped back into reality upon realizing such notion, but remained voiceless, too petrified to verbalize a thought that would give him away.

At the lack of verbal response, she became more worried. “Why does it not give you the peace you seek with so much fervor? The murderer of your people has already been sentenced and taken care of, and still you insist on giving him life! Why, child, why?”

Chanyeol was getting more disturbed and miffed as her reprimands grew louder and stronger. An unexpected ire throbbed inside him like a fast-working poison, clouding his judgement and fattening the bluish lines of his fine veins, making them visible over the beautifully bronzed skin on his sinewy arms and sturdy neck. She just could not understand the bigger picture around the matter, and her own obstinacy was provoking his hot-temper. His mouth and throat became arid then, and his heart pounded against his chest with the mighty force of a hysteric patient. His energy was burning up... he was seething, steaming.

He desired to start a huge fire. The avidity of his own demon was too mighty for him to oppose.

“Mrs. Lee, please, leave...” He panted, attempting to control the tremor in his deep timbre. He held back a furious, animalistic growl as the woman stood in her place, unwavering. “Now.”

 _Thump. Thump_. His pulse roared like thunders inside his throbbing head.

“No! Someone has to help you with this... you have to open your eyes, son, this is no good”, she stumbled over, cornering him without apprehending her fatal mistake. “I won’t leave you like this, not until you have completely digested the true. Captain Choi has departed already; he perished. Give up already, please... You are such a bright boy with a promising future ahead. Just let this matter go, it is killing you. You deserve to be free, but this... this is holding you back from great things.”

 _Thump, thump, thump, thump_. The powerful rhythm was overwhelming him.

“Mrs. Lee, please...” He murmured, desperate, almost sobbing.

“No. You’re like a son to me, Chanyeol... I can’t just walk away while you do this to yourself. Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to waste your life chasing a miserable enemy who no longer exists... Chanyeol, please!”

A white noise attacked his ears, and he became stunned and reeling for an ephemeral moment. The immediate instant, when awareness and dread settled in, he pretended to sprint past her and into his private bathroom, wanting to reach the bucket of cold water he had brought earlier. However, Mrs. Lee was bull-headed and blocked his way. He turned around as fast as possible to elude her, but the adamant woman tossed herself ahead and stamped her palms over his boiling back. Unconciously, he released a powerful heat-wave, as part of his innate defense mechanism. Time seemed to still as realization and fright downed upon him.

Mrs. Lee exclaimed a profanity as she bolted, horrified when she warily turned to observe her hands, all glistening with gushig blood and scorched skin.

“What...?”

She staggered back and shuddered once, twice, thrice. She was not inhaling, not blinking even. She was trapped in stark shock.

“Mrs. Lee...” Chanyeol, at the brink of breaking down, gawked at the abominable product of his outburst. He had lost control over his ability for the first time since he had been rescued, and the guilt it brought almost knocked the air out of his chest. “Mrs. Lee, please, let me help you...”

“You... you... mons-monster... MONSTER!” She howled and started running toward the closed door. As she threw a fleeting glance back, sharp and harmful like a poisonous arrow, Chanyeol did not miss the shift in her once motherly eyes: she was now seeing him as the gruesome creature he was. “YOU ARE A DEMON LIKE ALL THOSE MEN! A BLOODY MONSTER! HELP ME, HELP ME!”

“Mrs. Lee, wait! Please, listen to me!” He choked out, trying to approach her while she hurt herself gripping the doorknob and stained the wood. “Please, just... please...”

She was red and convulsing. “GO AWAY! HELP! HELP ME, FOR MERCY!”

He stoically witnessed her pitiful act until she disappeared, rushing out of his house as if she was fleeing from hell. Even when he was simmering with panic and pain, he managed to move to his room and recollected personal stuff: a worn-out diary, a couple of books, a blue coat Mr. Lee had given him for his past birthday and a sack of coins with his modest savings.

He escaped through the back door and crossed his well-kept garden, going over the hidden stable where he kept his most prized possession, his horse. He mounted it, shaken and truly torn, finally processing what the events meant for himself and the humble life he had known. With a face tainted by tear tracks and dirt, he ran away from home with a completely shattered heart, galloping at the same speed his soul was ebbing.

The weather was chilly and harsh. But it could never compare to Mrs. Lee’s frantic screams, which could be heard even from the far center of the woods, or the turmoil incited by the other inhabitants who had just learned that a cursed person, a monster, had been living among them all those past years.

Having the condemnable talent of pyrokinesis made him a cursed monster, and Chanyeol had never hated it as much as he did that day.


	2. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baekhyun meeting Chanyeol. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should tell you this fic is mainly self-indulgent. I don't have many things to say, only that I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't be too hard on this humble work. Comments are highly appreciated :3 have a very beautiful day.

Byun Baekhyun had memorized all the facts commonly known about the condemnable talents and the idiosyncrasies of their users. They were the aftereffects of an ancient curse, inherited through specific bloodlines. They skipped a generation, moving from grandparents to grandchildren. They were born by a single recipient at time, which meant none could manifest parallel in two different persons. And last but not least, their carriers were extremely dangerous.

The cursed humans, as they had been baptized by the Crowns through official statements, could not be trusted. They were considered a threat for the natural status quo, great enemies of the nations, since they inwardly withheld the evil endowments of demons, as well as their insatiable thirst for blood and cruel, non-human tendencies. Cursed humans were to be banished from society, to be persecuted, to be executed. The laws dictated that a cursed human located within a community should be reported by its members if they did not wish to share the same fate as them. They would be retained and taken to court, and depending on their talent, the authorities would proceed to accordingly deal with them.

Baekhyun learned he possessed the ability to manipulate the light wave-particules duality when he was an innocent child. He beloved mother highly esteemed such power and taught him that his talent should not be discredited as a pest, but be seen as a gift. She was keen on convincing him that the anathema dogmatized by the royalty and aristocrats should never discourage his self-confidence, because he could achieve amazing deeds with its help. He should be proud of who he was as a whole entity, his phenomenal ability included as well. He was not a monster.

However, his mother had been an idealist who believed in an utopian reality, far from the barbaric and overpowering world to wich they were subjected. She was brave, hopeful and brilliant, things he was not. Baekhyun was a coward who listened to the rash murmurs of the prole and sceptics. Thus, when she was seized by a horde of guards during a summer festival, instead of lifting a finger to aid her, to assiste her so she could escape, he stayed quiet. Her captors gravely announced the motive of her apprehesion to the consternated crowd and he pretended to be as appalled when her illegal practice of witchcraft arts was disclosed. He did not see her again after that horrible soireé.

It had been over ten years ever since. The last thing he received from her was a beautiful heirloom, an intricate Star and Crescent pedant, symbol of his photokinesis.

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re our dealer for the night”, one of the regular patrons clicked his tongue in front of him, slowly shaking a shiny deck in his line of vision. Baekhyun was perched against the bar of the pub, sharp elbows resting over the varnished surface. “C’mon, darling.”

It was the beginning of the week, so the dimly lit stablishment was not full. The round tables scattered around were mostly vacant, save from a couple housing heartbroken drunkards, and just a handulf of young men were smoking around the terrace area, with their dirty trousers and baggy shirts. Although Baekhyun was on vanguard duty, he easily left his position in front of the rows of glistening bottles, whistling for the scrawny girl on shift to take over as he attended the impatient gamblers.

Years working in shady spots had disciplined Baekhyun in the stoical philosophy. He adapted well to his surroundings, keeping in mind two unbreakable principles: no overbroad passions, no delusional hopes about exterior circumstances. He copied the charming, playful mannerisms of experienced seniors to survive meeting arrogant scumbags, such as the poker faced noblemen he was forced to confront on daily basis. This time it was a group of eight aristocratic elders, attired in rich robes which secured multi-barreled pistols and fat wads of cash. They were the classy alcoholics who abandoned their wives at their grandiose properties to fool around and get a taste of the lowest neighborhoods of the city.

Deceiving mindless people—so called _intellectuals_ —like them was the easiest task. A decent face and iteration were the key. He had rehearsed his routine for years, molding it until it was perfect.

First, he would flutter his eyelashes as he shuffled the cards, adjusting a lustful, dreamy haze over his eyelined eyes, and then he would unbutton his shirt to expose his enticing collarbones, alleguing the pub was overly warm. His hands were artlessly beautiful, fine fingers and trimmed nails, so he gestured a lot with them. They usually distracted the players as he alloted hands and managed the stakes, gaining him endless compliments and progressive trust.

Second, he selected a victim, which had to be the most swayed by his subtle hints. He played with their sight, dizzying their sense, blurring the lights, befuddling them by thinking they were gravely affected by the strong rum or whisky he tended to serve. When they had their guards down, Baekhyun would touch them under the pretense of being preoccupied for their wellbeing—he would knead shoulders and tickle necks, whispering sweet phrases until he came across the hidden money and pickpocketed the enraptured person on his mercy.

Baekhyun excused himself from the table of men to get them their drinks before starting his usual act. As he effortlessly poured them glasses of the best rum, the rusty bells over the entrance stridently chimmed. He lifted his curious gaze to study the newcomer and later wished he could have appeared less taken aback by his arrival.

He was slim and tall, taller than most people Baekhyun had met in his life. His shoulders were ample and sturdy, and his limbs were all sinewy and healthy-looking. However, what enchanted Baekhyun at first sight was the bewildered glint in the stranger’s orbs. There was a familiar feeling in his dark chocolate irises, so breath-taking and enigmatic. It paralyzed him from head to toes, leaving him discreetly gaping at the sidelines.

 _Cursed humans attract their own kind, Baekhyun. If you feel a magnetic pull, you’ll know they’re just like yourself_. His mother’s words echoed on his mind. He called over the girl from before, Sooyoung, and let her on charge of the old gamblers. He tuned out her hissed protests as he fixed his front bangs, greedily zooming in on the black-haired man’s worn-out semblance reflected on the crystal bottles. He intriguely stared as he sat by himself on a corner booth and openned a leather notebook over the table.

If his mother was right, then it would be his first time encountering one of his kind.

Baekhyun approached without hesitation, strangely happy about it. “It’s our politics to not allow people inside if they’re not customers”, was the first thing he said to the man. He leaned closer, in a rather intimate way, and gingerly caressed the exposed forearm because he loved teasing people. “If you’re thinking about staying here, you gotta order. But...”, Baekhyun was mischiveous and brazen as he sighed against the other’s earshell, “don’t worry about your bill, it’s on the house tonight.”

Chanyeol was lost as the other man straightened his posture and regarded him with a cheeky smile and twinkling eyes. It had been a hellish couple of days and nonsense was not welcomed. He had fleed to the nearest city in hopes of saving himself from his the town’s irascible accusations, but rumors had spread like fire and the authorities were already tracking his steps. He had stumbled on the bad-looking inn on top of the slantwise street hours ago and decided to sojourn there, booking a few nights under a false name while he figured everything out. He had come down to the pub after overharing it was the perfect place to get specks of information of any type; Chanyeol was in need of a juicy clue to retrace the steps of the man he was following.

Thus, he could do without a flirtatious man with a reddish mullet pestering him. The waist apron, trouser bracers and folded sleeves were enough inklings about his rol there; those three were crutial points for the strict barman etiquette around that area.

“I’ll get root beer”, he curtly answered, returning to his notes, hoping the bartender would leave him alone.

Instead of being disheartened by the obvious dismissal, Baekhyun felt oddly unnerved. He slid in front of him, shielding himself from the buzz of the few patrons around. The man was annoyed, the fisting of his hands was a blatant signal, and Baekhyun found himself fancying his rather cantankerous attitude. The way he scrunched up his nose in distate and tightened his thin lips was somewhat adorable.

Baekhyun shrugged, his self-sufficient smirk spelling trouble for Chanyeol. “Too bad, I’m not a waiter, sweetie. You don’t seem like the type to frequent bars, so I’ll tell you how things work around here: you have to move your grumpy self over there”, he pointed toward the long bar and the empty wooden stools, “and nicely order whatever you want. Rest assured, I still think you’re cute, regarless of how shitty your mood is, so you’ll get your free drinks.”

Chanyeol pondered about it, thinking that, perhaps, he could regain some sense of privacy if he complied with the noisy bartender’s suggestion. After a nerve-shattering period of deady silence, with Baekhyun’s fakely prim smile battling against Chanyeol’s unfazed glower, they surrendered simultenously and mirrored each other while standing up. Chanyeol groaned in exasperation at the strange coincidence while Baekhyun’s almond-shaped eyes shone in ecstacy.

They did not share a light conversation as they moved across the cozy stablishment. Baekhyun skillfully served what he had been requested, just to spare his client from running away before he could dig for a name, and glided the oversized glass until it clicked beside Chanyeol.

“So, how come a pretty thing like yourself got here by their own?”, Baekhyun tilted his head and rested his cheek on his palm, sharply eyeing Chanyeol fidgeting with he pages of his journal. “What are you looking for, hm?”

“Nothing. It’s none of your business”, Chanyeol rudely replied. Uncounsciously, his eyes lingered over the small tattoo he discovered in the other’s neck, illuminated by the lamps.

“Laurel and wild chamomile”, Baekhyun supplied to the oggling man, smug expression intact as he tenderly rubbed his tattoo. Chanyeol flushed upon being busted, his big ears acquiring a modest red as he yanked the glass closer without uttering a syllabe. As he tipped his head back and gulped half of the beverage down, Baekhyun laughed with ease. “My, you surely are an amateur in this kind of places.”

Chanyeol wipped his mouth with the back of his hand, indignant. “So what?”

“It’s funny. A bit pathetic, very funny nonetheless”, Baekhyun took a rag and cleaned the beer Chanyeol had spilled on the counter, smiling widely. His skin tingled with waves of heat the other radiated and he found them so ridiculously pleasant. “Let me help you mingling in, then. First of all, if you’re looking for someone or want to get the lastest gossips about anything, there is only one person you could possibly resort to...”, Baekhyun raised his thumb and pointed at himself, whimsically haughty, “the bartender, of course. Have any idea of why is that?”

“No”, Chanyeol narrowed his eyes, looking like a scolded kid.

“Because you don’t want to mess with the wrong people”, Baekhyun’s timbre got somber, cautious as he explored the place with a quick glance and returned to focus on the other’s wonder-struck coutenance. He mellowed the harden sentiment in his eyes and winked. “So, shoot, cherry boy. What’s on your mind? What do you want to know?”

Chanyeol was not precisely content with the nickname or the overall behavior of the other, but refrained himself from complaining. He exhaled a heavy sigh, rotating his personal journal and displaying yellowish pages in front of Baekhyun’s drawn eyes. The first thing Baekhyun realized was that Chanyeol’s handwritting was exquisite and delicate, quite the opposite result of what anynone could expect from those huge, calloused hands. The next consideration, however, froze the expanse of his insides and clenched his heart. He did not like the contents of the scribbled recordings.

“Shit, this is no childish game... what the hell are you doing asking about this?” Baekhyun slammed the notebook close and nervously studied their disquiet surroudings, as if he anticipated nasty reactions from the other patrons. He frowned when Chanyeol, all composed and self-possessed, simply dragged his journal back. “Why are you interested in those pirates? Are you... are you planning to join them?”

For some reason, that tentative option absolutely terrified Baekhyun. The Pirate Emperor’s common adepts were mainly a savage heap of brutes without personal ambitions, but his immediate crew, those who Captain Cho deemed as friends, belonged in a different, beyond noteworthy category. They were nine cursed humans with almighty strenght and incomparable resolution, chosen to do justice to the fame of the condemnable talent carriers.

“Why are you looking for that man? Do you even know why they call him Blue Krait?!”, Baekhyun hissed, taking Chanyeol’s beer and dumping it on a bucket by his feet. His client kept his neutral facial expression and it riled him up. “Fuck, that guy’s a human vase of poison—his spit is as toxic as the blue krait snake’s. A bite and you’ll be spamming for a few hours until you die. He’s aggressive and merciless, and I think you’re nuts if you’re looking for problems with this guy.”

“You’ve hear about him—or, have you met him?”, Chanyeol inquired. He was calm and not a bit disturbed by the bartender’s outburst because he had already heard everything that was mentioned. But, honestly, he could care less about the power of Kim Blue Krait. He was only a pawn to reach his goal. “I don’t have big business with him whatsoever. I just heard he’s been visiting someone in this province and I need him to find out where Captain Choi is. He’s alive and I’m hunting him down.”

Baekhyun’s face paled, adopting the sickening shade of the snow. “You’re insane. Why would you want to meet Blue Krait, if Captain Cho is already dead? Are you so desperate to use your talent to—”, and he faltered, eyes widening the moment he realized he had given himself away. Chanyeol’s gloved hands trembled over his notebook and Baekhyun distinguished a flash of anger and fear in those mesmerizing orbs.

“How-”

“I’m just like you...” Baekhyun fired then, confession coy and wavering. His rationality was screaming in objection, not entirely convinced he could trust this man with such truth, but the other had betrayed himself first when he reacted too quickly to his seemingly unjustified words. They both had each other at their mercy. “You and I aren’t that different, sweetie.”

At that moment, Chanyeol panicked. He jerked his journal and threw a tip in front of the surprised bartender, hastening his wobbly walk until he was desperately running out. Baekhyun was the main attraction of brief, ardent glances from the bystanders after the commotion had simmered, but he could not understand why he was left more anxious about the newcomer abandoning him without proper answers than grappling with the fact that he had prompted someone to infer he was a cursed human. It was his first time admitting it, even if it was indirectly.

Due an impulsive decision, he cut his shift short, ending it earlier than normally accepted, and left to Mrs. Bae’s inn. Baekhyun was generally luckless, perhaps because he was inwardly a pessimist and his vibes were never in a good disposition to accept blessings, but tonight it was a rare and the aspiration of sympathizing with an equal disassociated him from the dark illusion that permanently cloaked his vision. He had never felt as alive and hopeful as he was when he rushed forward, panting when the cold climate constricted his heated lungs, and he managed to intersect the other in an narrow alley. He was spamming, probably from powerful emotions, and there was a fetid pool of vomit at his feet.

Chanyeol’s boots left burnt marks on the rocky path, prints in a metalic red, like melting iron. Baekhyun was fascinated as he crouched down and let his hands loom over them, feeling the warm vapor hitting his bare skin with plain awe. Chanyeol looked mildly scared when his eyes connected with Baekhyun’s expecting ones, and he seemed ready to bolt again. In a helpless and quite mindless attempt to keep him around so they could settle the matter, Baekhyun blinded him.

The shock was so strong, it knocked the other out. The guilt started eating Baekhyun as he kneeled by his side and, upon seeing the Sun pendant peeking out of his coat, he blushed to the roots of his hair.

“This isn’t how I pictured meeting my soulmate..”


End file.
